


"Absence Makes the Heart Grow Fonder," they say

by Lineal



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Amnesia, Angst, Everyone Needs A Hug, Flashbacks, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Iwa needs a Hug, M/M, Memories, Past Car Accident, Past Character Death, Repressed Memories, makki too, truck-kun strikes again my fellow iwaoi fans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:46:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26567542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lineal/pseuds/Lineal
Summary: Every morning, Hajime wakes up with a hole in his heart.There's something missing. He just doesn't know what.Iwaizumi Hajime is twenty four years old, living by himself in a too-big, too-empty apartment with a killer headache that won't go away and no friends to turn to.Things weren't always this way.Now if only he could remember what happened.
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 55





	"Absence Makes the Heart Grow Fonder," they say

**Author's Note:**

> This ain't my usual crackfic, folks
> 
> Also quick disclaimer! I have no idea what I'm doing and Google can only teach me so much so...

_“Iwa-chan, look! That one’s Cygnus! It’s like a swan, can you see it? And that! That’s Corvus! They say it’s a crow but I can’t really see it. Can you? Iwa-chan. Iwa-chan!”_

_The stars are bright tonight, illuminating the sky in swirls of yellow and white. Two little boys, who can’t be older than seven or eight, stare up at it in wonder. One of them, with neat brown hair and a blurry face, is excitedly pointing at every constellation he can remember. The other boy makes an attempt to scowl, but it only takes a minute before his face ends up breaking into a wide grin too._

_He opens his mouth._

_“Toor-.”_

  
  
  


Like every other morning, Hajime wakes up feeling oddly hollow inside.

He doesn’t know why, just that there’s always a feeling tugging at his heart and a headache forming at the far back corner of his head.

A part of him wants to stay in bed the whole day and try to figure out what he’s missing and why he feels this way. But it’s cold and dark and too empty. And he has work in less than an hour.

So Hajime rises, rubs the remaining tears out of his eyes, and leaves his too-big, too-quiet room without looking back.

* * *

Most days, he only has to deal with a dull throbbing in his head that can be ignored or easily solved.

Some, however, he gets killer migraines every five minutes along with that annoyingly familiar singsong voice that rings in his ears and haunts his nightmares.

Today, Hajime decides as he presses his fingers to his temples, is one of those days.

He would normally drown himself in work and pour all his concentration into his computer so that the voice and flashes of blurry faces stop coming.

It’s a very effective way of stopping the pain, if he just ignores the burnout that comes afterwards. He knows he wasn’t always like this, forcing his body to work past his limits and ignoring any pleads for food and rest. He probably picked up the habit from _him_ , after he-.

Thinking only makes it worse, so Hajime clears his head of those thoughts.

“Hey, Iwaizumi.”

It’s his boss, an older woman named Rumi. Hajime doesn’t have to look to see the concern and pity etched on her face. He knows what she’s going to say; he’s heard it too many times to count, after all. And she’s right, it’s unhealthy, but it’s the only way for him to cope.

So he ignores her until she’s standing right behind him with her arms crossed and lips stretched into a tight frown.

“Iwaizumi.”

“...yes?”

“Are you feeling alright? If you want, you can go home early today. There’s not much left to do anyway.”

Hajime turns to face her, plastering a fake yet pleasant smile onto his face. (It’s yet another habit he picked up from _him_ after...no, he really needs to stop thinking about these things…) “It’s okay, I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine, young man,” Rumi tuts disapprovingly. “You’ve been working harder than anyone else here, so take the break. Go home and rest.”

“I’m fine, really. It’s just-.”

“Go home.”

She says it with such finality and fierceness that Hajime is suddenly sent back to the time when he was the one with that expression on his face, scolding _him_ for being an idiot and overworking himself; when everything was fine and he didn’t constantly feel like he was being ripped apart at the seams; when _he_ was-.

He blinks, and he’s back, just like that. He can feel everyone else’s eyes on him as his boss finishes her lecture.

“And as far as I’m concerned, you’re still a young, growing boy. You can’t be driving yourself into the ground and wasting all your time at work before you even hit thirty. No, you need to go home and get a nice warm meal and some rest. Got that?”

Once upon a time, Hajime would have been the one saying things like that. And _he_ would have grinned and made some cheeky reply before shrieking when Hajime reached out to smack him.

Now, that remark slips out of his mouth easily without any warning.

“Are you my m-?”

The retort dies on his tongue as a fresh wave of pain washes over him.

_“Iwa-chan, are you my mom?”_

He can see his face now, with wide brown eyes and soft hair, smiling innocently despite the torture he’s putting Hajime through.

Hajime wants to scream and cry, but he doesn’t know if it’s because of the relief of finally seeing his other half’s face or the melancholy and despair bubbling up inside. He wants to know who this man is. He wants to know why he won’t leave him alone.

The memory fades and he weakly packs up his things and leaves instead.

It isn’t even dark out by the time Hajime gets home and he clicks his tongue. There’s nothing he can do to distract himself now.

Hajime is twenty four years old, living in an apartment that doesn’t even have enough beer for him to get drunk and pass out with. He has no one to comfort him. No one in Tokyo wants to acquaint themselves with an antisocial workaholic and none of his friends from Miyagi speak to him anymore. He probably has enough money to go out and enjoy himself, but what’s the point when he can no longer find joy in anything?

He’s lonely, sure. He’s sad, of course. But that doesn’t make him depressed. He’ll be just fine.

With that resolve in mind, Hajime forces himself to get up once again.

He goes on a walk, wandering aimlessly past the bustling intersections and through quiet backstreets, past parks and train stations. The whole time, he is invisible to all the other pedestrians. 

(It’s so different from when he was in highschool with _him_ and they’d get flocked by fangirls everytime they turned a corner)

His legs bring him to a cemetery.

He pauses at the entrance, glancing inside. It’s familiar yet foreign at the same time.

Hajime braces himself for pain, but it doesn’t come.

Instead, it feels like someone is twisting and tugging on his heart.

It doesn’t hurt as much, but he finds it more unpleasant.

He turns and begins the long trek home, only stopping to buy some drinks since he’s already outside anyway.

The next morning, he doesn’t wake up crying and his headache is only from his hangover. But the twinge in his heart is still there and Hajime finds out that he can no longer match the cause of it with a voice or face.

The emptiness is back, much worse than before.

He’s not sure which feeling he prefers more.

* * *

_“Hey, hey, Iwa-chan.”_

_“Hm?”_

_Eighteen year old Hajime glances at_ him _curiously. His eyes never fully focus on_ his _face._

_“...we’re graduating soon, right?”_

_“Yeah?”_

_“And we’re both going to Tokyo, right?”_

_“Uh huh.”_

_“And different universities so we won’t see each other that much…”_

_Hajime scrunches up his brows. “Yeah, what about it?”_

_“Well...the great-.”_

_“O̸̢̲̫̝͊͐͆̾̉̅̓̍̐̾͠į̷̠̻̟̮͔̻̟͈̯̼̰͑̀͊͌͑͂̑̈͗́̉͊̄͋k̵̛̩̗̠̭̘͑̽̔͂́̃̕̚a̸͖̘̹̻͇̣̠̍̎̔̿̊̿͆͌̃̊̄̎̍̒͜w̸̡̩̩̯̪͓͇̬̰̯̣͚̣̖͊̓̾̍̏͆̂̎͜a̶͕̮̮̗̟͉̲̣̮̻̬̪͎̖̿̍̇́͑̇̕͝͠-̵̩̯̖̂̂͆̿̿̐͐͗͆̌̚s̵̢̯͈̰̝̪̫͓̬͐̉̃̂͝ǎ̷̺̟̮͆̀͋̆͐̅̄̂͝͝n̴͓͖̼̰͈̻͓͔̞̟̤̻͉̝̑̑̍̎͑̀͊͂͌̇͐͝͝͝ͅ”_

_“...found a wonderful solution for that!” Although he can’t exactly see the expressions_ he’s _making, Hajime somehow knows for certain that_ his _whole mood suddenly shifts. “So...I was looking at apartment listings and well...I found one that’s around the same distance from both of our schools and…”_

He _hesitates and Hajime chuckles, continuing for_ him. _“Wanna move in together?”_

_“Aww, I can’t believe you’re asking me! Yes, of course. Don’t worry, there’s enough of-.”_

_“O̸̠̘̠̯̪͛̐͌̈́͆̂̋̿͋̾̔͗͗̕͜͝i̵̡̧̱͍̞̥̜̥̲̥̹̍͒̿̆̋̈́̍̋̔̓͘͠ͅk̸̨̖̦̦̺̞͙̮̠̲̭̝͔̰̤̉̉͂͘ą̵̻̭͇̣̈́̒̌͊͝͝͝ẅ̶̢̡̛̛͔̠̹̜̝̫͈̻́̏̉͆̕̕͝͠͝a̵̱͆̑̐͋̽-̵̙̼̮̃͗̅͂̒͂̽͘ş̴̼̖̆̏̿̅̍̊a̷̛̳͈̦̰̖͈̣̙̤̙̝̒̽̈̎̈́͊̎͝͝͝n̵͓̣͛̓̎̈́͑͂͌́͝ͅ ̷̩͊̐̈́̈́͝t̸̛̹͆̋̒o̴̭̤͈̹̼̤̓̄̊͋̓͌̃̔͆̈́̏̚͝͠͠ ̵̧̡͙̼͔̬̫͕̼̈́̐̿̑̓͗̅g̷̪͔̙͈̞̑͑̂̏͠͝o̴̢̖͚͙̙̬̼̜̝͚͊̾̍͒͂͑͜ ̴̨̰̫͎̫̜͙͍̝͎̦͍̖̏̓͗̃͒̓̑̋̌̐̓̉̒̾̋a̸̛̤͎̲͊̈́̄̎r̷̰̭̭̺̃͋̃̐̅̐͋̓̓̃̈́͠ǫ̵̡̡̢̹͉͉̲͕̤̬̙͓̾̑̑̇̌͂̀̈́̄́̈͘̕͜͝ú̶̫͙̐̀͂̔̉̃̾̄̌̾͝͝͝n̵̦̼̞̯̙̗͉̓̐̈̑̄̊̓̌̓̓̔̐͂d̸̢͉͉̣̙͚̰̈́͊̐̓̔̌͂.”_

  
  


The memories of his dream don’t go away, even after he jolts awake.

Hajime stays home today. He walks through all the rooms of the apartment, examining every small part, and finding hidden details that reveal the fact that someone else once lived here too.

Being alone with his thoughts is suffocating, but he needs to be by himself in this too-big apartment meant for two people to realize that oh.

He’s not meant to be alone.

There should be someone else with him. Someone he’s supposed to love dearly. Someone he should remember.

But he doesn’t know who, no matter how much he tries to recall the distorted name that was said in his memory.

* * *

The days pass on. It seems like noticing the absence of _something_ only makes it more prominent and it terrifies Hajime a little.

He goes back to work. 

It doesn’t work anymore; the pain never fades away.

But Hajime never stops. There’s nothing else for him to do anyway.

  
  
  


_“You idiot!”_

_Hajime is back to being sixteen again, watching as his best friend collapses right in front of him after a failed jump serve._

_“I-Iwa-chan…”_

_The brunette cradles his right knee. Tears are already falling in big, wet drops as Hajime hurriedly kneels by his side. “Shit,” he hisses under his breath. “Fuck, you idiot, you absolute moron, you-.”_

_Suddenly, he’s crying too, mirroring the expression on his best friend’s face._

_“I told you to stop overworking yourself, and now…”_

* * *

On one particularly uneventful Thursday, they get a new employee in the form of Akaashi Keiji.

He’s young, Hajime notes, taking in his appearance. He looks bright too, as if he’d be able to succeed in places so much better than this average management office.

And as much as Hajime hates judging people based on their appearance, he has a pretty face too; one that would definitely get him places. (Still not as pretty as _him_ though-)

“Are you really sure about this?” Rumi asks, voicing his unspoken thoughts. “You can leave now if you want. This is your last chance, take it.” She pauses by the doorway, blocking Akaashi from entering. This is one of the rare times Hajime appreciates her motherly nature.

Akaashi nods politely, although he appears to be taken aback by her attitude, so unlike one of a typical serious and goal-orientated boss. “Yes, I’m sure.”

She hesitantly lets him in, but not without another rant prepared. Akaashi follows her to his new desk obediently. He’s back to looking uninterested in everything happening around him, but from his fidgeting hands, Hajime knows he’s at least a little bit uncomfortable.

(When did he get so good at reading others? Is it another thing he picked up from _him_ , after-)

“Honestly, what is up with all of you young people? You’re handsome and probably smart, so what’re you doing here, rushing to become a salaryman like this.” Rumi is staring straight at Hajime when she says this and he rolls his eyes. “With no social life or family waiting at home. Aren’t you-?”

“Uh. Boss,” Akaashi interrupts, and she pauses mid sentence immediately, clicking her tongue.

“Call me Rumi. We don’t do that ‘boss’ stuff here.”

“Oh, well, Rumi-san. I can assure you that I have someone waiting at home for me, so don’t worry.”

Hajime’s fists clench involuntarily under his desk.

“Oh? Well wouldn’t you want to be home with-?”

“Rumi-san, this is getting nowhere,” Hajime finally pipes up, rising to stand next to her. He turns to Akaashi with a raised brow. “But she makes a fair point. Are you really sure you want to work here? It gets really busy at times with uh, you know, management stuff.” He gestures to his coworkers bent over their computers with piles of paper stacked up next to them.

Bad idea. Rumi’s attention is now completely on Hajime and she scowls. “You are the last person who gets to say that. What are you still doing here? Weren’t you supposed to be done an hour ago?”

Someone in the back has the audacity to laugh at that.

Akaashi watches silently.

* * *

_“Iwa-chan, look. Are you seeing this?”_ he _pouts like a petulant child. A video from Nationals is playing on the television._

_“Hm?”_

_“How come Fukuroudani’s always at Nationals when they have a setter like that?”_

_Hajime frowns, leaning over_ him _to watch the match. Like almost everything else in this world, it’s blurred and unfocused. “Hey, don’t be mean.”_

_“But Iwa-chan!”_

_“Yeah, yeah, you’re the better setter,” he grunts. “But they also have a better ace, so of course they’re at Nationals.”_

His _mouth drops open. “Iwa-chan, how can you say that?”_

_“Well it’s true.”_

_“No! You’re my ace, so of course you’re the best one out there!”_

_“That’s not-.”_

_“I don’t care about this top four bullshit, Seijoh’s ace is better than theirs! Iwa-chan is the most talented and strongest and tiniest but fiercest-!”_

_Hajime shoves_ him _away, ears and face both burning red from the compliments. “Shut up, I get it.”_

_When his eyes wander back to the screen, all he can see are piercing gunmetal blue eyes staring back._

  
  
  


“Ah, Akaashi. You can just leave that there.”

“Okay, thank you.” Akaashi’s eyes (a striking gunmetal blue in color) narrow. “Is there something on my face?”

“Huh?” And for the upteemth time that week, Hajime finds out that he’s been letting his gaze linger on the younger boy for a bit too long. “No, it’s just, uh…” By the time he finishes, his ears are burning. “Have we met before?”

“I have a boyfriend,” is his flippant reply as he goes back to shuffling papers. 

Hajime gapes at him. “No, no! I know! I mean, I’m not trying to hit on you or anything, it’s just- you just look familiar.”

“I’m joking, Iwaizumi-san,” Akaashi chuckles. “You actually look a bit familiar too. I don’t think we’ve met before, though.”

“Huh.” Hajime tries to rack his brain for any way someone could have seen him outside of meeting in person, but he comes up blank.

“I was on television for a bit, I think,” he continues. “Maybe that’s where you saw me?”

“Television?” Now that Hajime thinks of it, he does remember seeing a pair of similar eyes on a screen a while back. He just doesn’t know where they’re from. “Were you a child actor or something?”

“Oh, no. I was on a sports team in highschool. We went to Nationals a few times, so...”

“Oh? I think I did a sport too, but we never made it to Nationals.” For some reason, Hajime’s grin is wider than it has been in years. “What did you play?”

“Volleyball. You?”

“I don’t really remember much, but it was fun,” Hajime shrugs, ignoring the growing pressure in his head. “Wow, volleyball. I’ve never played it before but it sounds fun.”

“Yes,” Akaashi nods, but his frown only deepens. “Yes, it is.”

  
  
  


Before he heads back to his desk, Akaashi fiddles with his fingers and asks, “Iwaizumi-san, where did you say you were from again?”

“Hm? Miyagi.”

“I see…”

“Why?”

“Nothing. Thank you.”

* * *

Sometimes, when he doesn’t have work to do, Hajime sits back and wonders what went wrong in his life.

He wonders why he’s stuck where he is now; why he doesn’t finish his education to get a better job; why he doesn’t have any friends; why they all left him.

Why he always feels like there’s a hole in his chest.

There’s no one else around to fill it. It’s times like these that he wishes he had made more of an effort to get close to others.

Everyone else is on vacation, enjoying their time with their loved ones, and Hajime’s just lying around at home with nothing to do but wallow in his own self pity.

He doesn’t understand why things are the way they are. The only thing he knows is that three years ago, something happened. Hajime lost a part of his soul, his old friends disappeared, his parents couldn’t bear to look at him anymore, and his life began crumbling apart.

It’s all _his_ fault. _He_ just had to ruin everything. _He_ just had to make Hajime love _him_ and then leave and make everyone else leave and it’s all _his_ -.

Hajime gets up.

He goes on a walk, and his tears remain unshed.

  
  
  


His legs bring him to the cemetery again.

This time, Hajime takes a deep breath and enters.

  
  
  


He doesn’t make it very far before he catches sight of a very familiar head of pink-brown hair heading his way. There’s a pang in his chest.

_“Makki,”_ the voice supplies and Hajime growls at it to go away.

The other man notices him a second later and his steps falter. 

“Hanamaki,” Hajime whispers in disbelief before repeating, louder, _“Hanamaki.”_

Hanamaki flinches. “Iwaizumi…” His eyes and mouth are both wide open, reflecting Hajime’s surprise. “You…” He gulps. “Hi.”

“Hey,” Hajime greets. Hanamaki jumps at his voice a second time. “What’re you doing here?”

Their eyes meet for a moment before Hanamaki quickly looks away. He appears to have been crying and Hajime bites his lip.

“What’re _you_ doing here?” Hanamaki shoots back with a short, mirthless laugh. “Visiting someone?”

“Oh.” Right. They’re in a cemetery. “No, uh. I was just on a walk. Were you? Visiting someone, I mean.”

Hanamaki visibly deflates. “Yeah. I guess.” 

“A friend?”

He opens his mouth to say something, but closes it and nods silently instead.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

They dissolve into silence again. The air between them has never been this thick, but things change, Hajime resolves. He just wants to know why.

Hanamaki must know. He was the first to cut ties with Hajime, after all.

But he ends up just nodding stiffly. “Well, uh. I need to go now. Groceries, you know.”

“...yeah.”

“It was nice seeing you,” Hajime lied blatantly as he began backing away.

“Yeah.”

It isn’t until Hajime’s back at the entrance gates that he hears Hanamaki calling after him. “My number is still the same,” he begins hesitantly. “You can text me whenever. We can hang out sometime if you want.”

Something warm wells up in Hajime’s chest, numbing every other unpleasant feeling in him for a moment.

But for some reason, his mouth feels like sandpaper when he answers. “Sure. I’d like that.”

* * *

“Iwaizumi-san, are you free this weekend?”

“I think so, why?”

“I was wondering if you wanted to try volleyball,” Akaashi suggests. His hands continue typing swiftly on his keyboard, but he has his full attention on Hajime.

“Volleyball?” There’s that word again. It feels like there’s something squeezing his head and Hajime pinches the bridge of his nose with a grumble. “I don’t know how to play, though.”

“I can teach you, it’s no big deal.”

“Are you sure?” Hajime says unsurely. 

“Absolutely.”

“But...why?”

Akaashi’s smile looks a little sad for a second. “Nothing, really. I just need to spread my love for volleyball to others too.”

They leave it at that. Hajime finally has something to mark his calendar with.

  
  
  


The problem about not having any plans for a while and then suddenly having one the day after tomorrow is that Hajime doesn’t know what to wear.

He can’t go around on a normal outing wearing his work clothes. It’s strange, he hasn’t worn anything other than that and a ratty tshirt for so long.

_“Of course Iwa-chan doesn’t know how to dress nicely. Gorillas don’t need to wear clothes- ack! Iwa-chan, you brute!”_

He settles for one of his old workout shirts. It’s a bit too long and tight around his shoulders, but it’ll have to do for now.

  
  
  


“Are you warmed up yet? Let’s start with spiking the ball.”

“Spiking? Shouldn’t we start with something like passing first?” Even with his limited knowledge on the sport, Hajime knows that a beginner shouldn’t be trying that on the first day.

  
But he only watched a few MeTube videos on it before he blacked out from pain, so what does he know?

“We can do that later,” Akaashi assures him. “I just want to try this out. Don’t worry, you seem like a natural.”

Hajime hums under his breath, finishing up his stretches and jogging over to where his junior is standing. “So what do we do?”

A ball is rolled over to his feet and Hajime picks it up. “Just throw it in the air. I’ll set it to you.”

“Set?”

“I’ll toss it into the air for you to hit. I’m a setter, by the way.”

_“I’m gonna be a setter! Setter’s are the coolest!”_

“Okay. Then what?”

Akaashi smiles cryptically. “Just do whatever your body finds natural.”

“Huh?”

“Trust me.”

_“My perfect trust with you, Iwa-chan.”_

“I believe in you.”

_“I believe in all of you.”_

“Iwaizumi-san?”

“Yeah,” Hajime grits out. “Let’s do this.”

  
  
  


He throws the ball.

Akaashi’s fingers make contact with it. It’s an almost perfect toss, just how he likes it.

Hajime doesn’t hesitate. He bends his knees and jumps.

  
  
  


The feeling of the ball smacking his palm as he swings his arm forward is strangely comforting. It’s almost like he’s done this hundreds and hundreds of times before.

The ball slams into the opposite side of the court, and suddenly Hajime is eighteen years old, scoring the final point of a match after a perfect toss from _his setter_.

Euphoria pumps through his veins and he reaches out to fistbump Oi-.

Akaashi. He reaches out to high five Akaashi. 

He and Hajime are the only ones in the court at this hour, so why is he imagining someone else?

“Nice kill, Iwaizumi-san.”

_“Nice kill!”_

His brain knows that the person he’s seeing is Akaashi, but his eyes are seeing someone else.

“Let’s play volleyball.”

_“Let’s play volleyball, Iwa-chan.”_

Everything goes black.

  
  
  


It only takes a few minutes for Hajime to wake up again.

Akaashi is frantically fussing over him.

“Iwaizumi-san? Are you okay?”

In a blink of an eye, Akaashi’s face is back. But there’s something different about it.

It’s not a good difference.

“Yeah, sorry. Deja vu moment.”

But it’s not, and Hajime knows Akaashi knows when he pushes him away guiltily.

It’s not the younger boy's fault. It’s just that Hajme can’t stop seeing wavy brown hair and wide brown eyes instead of curly black locks and half hooded eyes.

* * *

“Iwaizumi!”

“Hey,” Hajime waves awkwardly as he makes his way over to Hanamaki. The cafe that they decided to meet up at is unsurprisingly crowded and he has to squeeze his way past a couple tables while apologizing profusely.

Hanamaki is watching him amusedly and Hajime scowls. It’s not his fault he isn’t used to being somewhere with so many people.

“How’ve you been?”

“Good, thank you. And you?”

“Great.”

This is probably the most professional exchange they’ve ever had. Hajime can’t stop the snort that escapes his nose. 

Hanamaki raises a brow. “Damn, no wonder you can’t get a girlfriend.”

They burst into laughter. When was the last time Hajime had a conversation like this? 

Far too long.

“So? How’ve you really been?”

“I don’t know, busy, I guess.”

“Hmm, yeah. Being a working adult is hard,” Hanamaki huffs. “Remember when we were dumb little highschoolers with nothing better to do than play vo- play around? Ah, the good times.”

Hajime doesn’t know if he should mention that he can barely remember anything from highschool, so he just nods along. “How’s everyone been doing? I haven’t spoken to anyone in a while.”

“They’re all just going around. Being successful. Being young.” If Hanamaki notices the passive aggressiveness in his words, he doesn’t mention it. “Oh, Kunimi actually works in your area too. You should try contacting him soon. Wait, let me give you his number…”

“Kunimi?” The name rings a bell but Hajime can’t quite place it. He can try, but it’s not worth risking passing out again. “Like...with the turnip hair? Super tall?”

“No, that was,” Hanamaki takes a shaky breath. “That was Kindaichi. Kunimi was the shorter one? Never had a lot of energy?”

“Huh…” The tension is back. Hajime bites his lip. “Anyway! What’re you doing in Tokyo?”

“I just moved here a few weeks ago,” he shrugs. “Work purposes.”

“Oh?”

“It was also getting lonely in Miyagi. Everyone except for Matsukawa left and we’re, uh, not exactly on good terms anymore.”

“You and Matsukawa?” Hajime frowns. That’s not right. “But weren’t you guys best friends? They called you, what was it again, the meme team?”

“The good old days,” Hanamaki whistled. “But people change. That’s just life, you know?”

And oh, Hajime knows that all too well.

A waiter comes by to take their order. Hajime orders a horrifyingly sweet drink. He doesn’t like it, but it just feels right.

From the way Hanamaki watches him, he knows it isn’t.

  
  
  


“So,” Hanamaki begins again after they get their food. “Talk to me. Adult talk. How’s work going?”

“Could be better. Wasting away as a salaryman is surprisingly depressing, but that’s kinda just my life now.”

“Hm.”

“We got a new person though. Nice kid. He actually brought me to try out volleyball the other day.”

Hanamaki drops his fork. It clatters loudly on the ground and a waiter rushes to get him a new one. “Oh. Volleyball. How was it?”

“Pretty cool. Oh, I did some spiking. Akaashi said I was a natural,” Hajime beams. “If I had known how good I’d be, I would have picked this up earlier. It’s fun.”

“Akaashi? Like Akaashi Keiji?”

“You know him? Damn, was his team really that famous?” 

“You could say that,” Hanamaki mutters into his cup. “Kageyama talks about him a lot too.”

“Kageyama?”

“You don’t… you don’t remember him?”

“Am I supposed to?”

“I… he was your underclassman in junior high. He… didn’t stand out or anything, so that’s probably why you don’t.” 

“How do you know him then?”

“We played against each other in highschool,” Hanamaki says, feigning nonchalance. “Now he’s run off to the Japanese National Team. That brat.”

Hajime’s mouth feels dry. “National Team… for what?”

Hanamaki goes silent for a minute. “Volleyball.”

His heart thuds.

“Hanamaki… you played volleyball?” But… they had been on the same sports team...

At this point, their food has been forgotten completely. Hanamaki abruptly pushes his plate away and rises to his feet. “Yeah, uh. It was nice meeting you again, but I think I left the oven on at home so gotta go, sorry.”

It’s such a pathetic excuse, yet Hajime can only watch as his old friend hurriedly slips on his jacket and pulls out his wallet to pay.

Inside, his mind is screaming. Hanamaki knows something and Hajime wants answers.

What does volleyball have to do with anything? Why doesn’t Hajime remember any of these names? Why is his head pounding all of a sudden? Why were such impeccable friendships broken and severed? 

What happened?

Hanamaki’s back is to him now. He can’t find it in himself to say anything sensible. All he can do is repeat whatever that voice in his head is shouting, and-.

_“MAKKI!”_

It’s drowned out by the sounds of the bustling cafe around them, but said man pivotes on his heel immediately, eyes wide and absolutely terrified and Hajime just wants to know _why_.

“Don’t…” Hanamaki’s voice comes out strangled. “Don’t call me that.”

He’s crying.

“Sorry. I’ll call you later.”

And with that, he’s gone, and Hajime sinks back into his seat.

  
  
  


He’s alone again. His drink remains untouched.

* * *

Life goes on.

Hajime likes to think that things get better for him.

After their initial disaster of a meeting, he and Hanamaki hung out several other times, and they had all gone pretty smoothly. He meets up with Akaashi on weekends to play volleyball, too, and starts working less hours.

His heart feels lighter these days.

(His head also feels heavier, but he can just ignore that)

And now he’s on a train headed to Miyagi. It’s his first time going back home in almost four years.

So why does he only feel dread building up within him?

  
  
  


Hajime’s glad he made it onto the train before regret set in and he got the urge to bolt back to his apartment to hide from whatever was to come.

At the same time, he kind of wishes he had hesitated now that he’s standing in front of his childhood home, fingers hovering over the doorbell.

“You can do this, Hajime,” he mumbles to himself. He shifts the box of sweets in his hands and gulps. “You can do this. All you have to do is ring the doorbell. That’s it. You can do this. You can-.”

The door opens.

He’s not ready at all.

Hajime lets out an embarrassing squeak and nearly drops the box as he stumbles back.

His mother, who looks much older than she was the last time he saw her, stares back at him with both hands over her mouth. The bag of trash by her feet sits forgotten.

“Hajime…?” she gasps.

He’s suddenly overcome with the need for affection and touch.

“Mama,” he croaks, voice thick with the beginnings of a sob.

She reaches forward, and despite being a whole thirty centimeters shorter than him, envelops Hajime into a tight hug.

Her arms are warm. Her arms are safe.

For the first time in years, nothing hurts.

Hajime has missed this.

  
  
  


_“Mom...?”_

_“I’m sorry, Hajime. We need to go home now.”_

_“But-.”_

_“Call us if you need anything, okay? Stay safe. Love you.”_

_The car door slams shut._

_That is the last time Hajime sees his mother for the next three years._

  
  
  


“I’m really sorry, sweetie. We just weren’t in the right mindset and-.”

“It’s okay, mom.”

“It’s not okay, I can’t believe we just left you there. Oh, just wait until your father comes home. Are you staying the night? Stay, please. I’m so sorry.”

Hajime’s smile is wobbly. “I know, mom.”

She still isn’t looking at him, but at least they’re talking.

  
  
  


Hajime realizes he’s missed homemade dinners and eating around a table, too.

  
  
  


Later that night, Hajime is sitting on their back porch, marvelling at the clear skies and bright stars above.

  
He used to catch bugs and climb trees in this yard. Those memories are nice, nostalgic and untainted.

From the corner of his eye, Hajime catches some movement from the house next door.

There’s an old couple sitting outside, watching the night sky sadly.

He suddenly feels unwell. 

  
  
  


“Dad,” Hajime calls before he heads upstairs. “When did we get new neighbors?”

His father’s face scrunches up. “New neighbors?”

“I saw some people next door. Didn’t recognize them,” he shrugs. “Was there someone living there before?”

“...which house?”

“The blue one. To our right.”

A cup shatters in the kitchen, where his mother is doing the dishes. His father’s expression breaks with it.

Hajime doesn’t ask again.

  
  
  
  


Even when he’s lying in bed after deciding to sleep early, he can still see them behind his eyelids.

They’re younger. Happier.

There’s a small boy with wavy brown hair and wide brown eyes with them.

  
  
  


Hajime decides to head back to Tokyo the next day.

He can’t take the sorrowful glances he keeps getting when his parents think he isn’t looking. 

  
  
  


Just as he’s about to enter the station, Hajime is stopped by a hand on his shoulder.

He jolts at the touch and it falls away immediately.

Thick eyebrows. Messy black hair. 

“Ah.”

_“Mattsun…”_

“Sorry, I just… thought you were someone I knew.” He pushes away, sheepishly rubbing the back of his head. “But now that I think of it, he wouldn’t come here. Sorry, I-. Yeah.”

No, he didn’t get the wrong person.

Was it really that surprising that Hajime would come home?

“Matsukawa.”

“Oh. Yeah. Hi.”

“I, uh, was just about to go back to Tokyo,” Hajime supplies. “And my train leaves in a few, so…”

“I’ll walk you there.”

Hajime doesn’t reply. He keeps walking.

Matsukawa trails behind him awkwardly.

“Sorry about earlier. I just didn’t think I’d see you here again,” he mumbles when they near the platform.

Hajime’s too tired to ask why, so he just hums under his breath. “Yeah…”

“So what’re you doing back here?” 

There’s hope in his voice.

“Nothing much. Just visiting my parents, I guess.”

“Oh…”

The hope crumbles, and he can't bring himself to care.

  
  
  


Moments before Hajime steps onto the train, Matsukawa sticks out his hand. “Well it was nice, seeing you again.”

“You too,” he agrees, despite the fact that this can hardly be counted as a friendly reunion. He shakes his hand, nonetheless. 

There’s a ring on one of Matsukawa’s fingers. It wasn’t there three years ago.

Hajime blinks. “Congratulations.“

“What? Ohh,” Matsukawa follows his gaze to the ring. “Uh huh.”

“Are you…?”

“Not yet. The wedding’s in three months.“

There’s a knot forming in Hajime’s throat. “Congrats,” he repeats a second time for good measure. “So? Who’s the lucky girl?”

“The most amazing woman on the planet.” Matsukawa smiles fondly at the small golden band. “The best of the best. You should meet her sometime.”

Suddenly, there’s a flash of Hanamaki’s face in his mind. He has the same expression as Matsukawa, gazing longingly at his best friend from afar. 

Stolen glances.

Touches that lingered for a bit too long.

Smiling too brightly when the other was around.

The list could go on and on.

_“We’re not exactly on good terms anymore.”_

Oh.

Hajime swallows heavily. “Yeah. I’m happy for you.”

“Thanks. Have a safe trip back. Oh, and if you ever see Makki, can you tell him I say hi? Haven't seen him in a while.”

  
  
  


When he’s hundreds of miles away, Hajime finally notices how light his left ring finger feels.

* * *

“Um.”

Hajime’s certainly not expecting to come face to face with a strange man right outside the doors of his office.

He has broad shoulders and is annoyingly tall, with ridiculous hair that only adds to his ridiculous height. Hajime should feel intimidated but all he does is scowl.

_“Ah, Iwa-chan, always so sensitive about your height. Don’t worry, I know it’s just because you’re closer to hell- I’m sorry!”_

Damn right, he’s sensitive about his height.

He’s not _that_ short.

“Hi!” the man grins. He looks like an owl. “Don’t mind me, just pretend I don’t exist, please.”

Hajime’s eye twitches. “Why are you just standing by the door like that? Are you here to rob us? Kill someone? We have nothing worth that, please leave.”

He has the audacity to look confused. “Huh?”

“Oh my god, just-.” Hajime rubs his eyes. “Leave or I’m calling the police.”

He makes a show of taking out his phone and panic flashes through the man’s eyes. “Wait, no! I’m here for Keiji. Akaashi Keiji! But you can’t tell him that, okay? It’s a surprise!”

“Akaashi? What do you want with him?”

“Nothing bad, I swear,” he pleads. “I’m not-.”

“Iwaizumi-san, what’s all this-.” Akaashi pauses halfway out the door. “Koutarou? What are you...”

The man pouts. “Keiji! I was supposed to surprise you when you finished work!”

Akaashi sighs. “You know I’d prefer to see you as soon as possible. You should’ve just come in.” He leans in to give him a peck on the cheek and he immediately perks up.

“Keiiiiji!”

Hajime clears his throat uncomfortably. They pull apart, flustered. 

“Ah, sorry,” Akaashi mumbles, looking absolutely mortified. “Iwaizumi-san, this is Bokuto Koutarou. My boyfriend.”

“Oh? This is your infamous boyfriend?”

“Keiji, you talk about me?!”

“And Kou, this is-.”

“Iwa-Iwa!” Bokuto beams.

Hajime chokes. “Iwa-Iwa?”

“Hm, yeah. It’s weird, right? How about Iwa-kun? Iwa-chan?”

_“That’s too long. Can I just call you Iwa-chan?”_

Hajime physically recoils. 

“Shit, sorry!” Bokuto stammers. “Is it really that bad? I just thought, since you’re close with Keiji, you should have a nickname, and-.”

He suddenly feels guilty. “No. Iwa-kun is fine. Just… just not the last one. Please.”

Hajime watches in alarm as Bokuto’s hair begins drooping with his mood. 

It’s not just him. Akaashi notices too and he clicks his tongue. “Kou, it’s okay, really,” he insists. “Uh. Wait, let me see if I can get off work early. We can go home and watch a movie together. Isn’t that nice? Koutarou.”

He nods glumly.

The door swings open and Rumi steps out, frowning. “Hey, I’m not complaining, but why aren’t you two inside yet? Your shifts started ten minutes-.” She makes eye contact with Bokuto and she gawks. “Bokuto Koutarou?!”

Akaashi cringes. “Kou, why don’t you ever wear a disguise?”

“Can’t help it, it’s stuffy,” Bokuto argues, but his hair and face are back to normal in an instant. “You know me? Are you a fan?!”

“Oh, my daughter and I love you!” Rumi gasps. “Akaashi, why didn’t you tell me you knew Bokuto Koutarou?”

Akaashi groans into his hands.

“Fans?” Hajime parrots. “Are you famous or something? Akaashi, you’re dating a celebrity?”

_“Dating?”_

Akaashi buries his whole head into his arms.

“Yeah, I play volleyball! Professionally!”

Volleyball. There’s that word again.

Professionally, huh. That’s what _he_ wanted to do, before…

“If it’s okay, Rumi-san, I’ll be taking a break from work today,” Akaashi requests.

“Go, go, take a break, have fun. And don’t forget to use protection!”

He looks like he wants to sink into the ground and cry.

* * *

Bokuto ends up visiting their office regularly whenever he has the time to do so.

Everytime Hajime sees him, he feels the same familiarity that he got from Akaashi at first. Have they met before?

That can’t be right. He probably just saw him on television or something.

(But that doesn’t seem right either; Hajime doesn’t even watch TV, so how?)

_“...they also have a better ace, so of course they’re at Nationals.”_

By the time Hajime shakes the thought away, he realizes that Bokuto is watching him too, with a strangely serious frown. He whispers something to Akaashi, who shakes his head and returns to work.

That doesn’t deter him from doing whatever he’s doing, though. Instead, Bokuto’s frown only grows more pensive and he gets up.

Hajime belatedly realizes that he’s coming his way and hurriedly pulls out a document to focus on.

Too late.

“Hey, Iwa-kun.”

“Y-yeah?”

“You know… I was thinking ‘hey, he looks familiar’ and guess what? I was right.”

Someone drops their laptop.

“Uh…”

“You’re Seijoh’s Ace! From Miyagi!” Bokuto proudly jabs a thumb in his direction. Akaashi, on the other hand, looks absolutely stricken as he stumbles past his probably broken laptop to them. 

Hajime pales.

“Man, I really wanted to face you guys in highschool, but you never made it to Nationals.”

There’s a wave of pain. He grits his teeth.

“Your setter was really awesome too! I mean, not as good as Akaashi, but still! Uh, what was his name again?”

It doesn’t stop.

“Koutarou-.”

“Oiyama? Hanakawa?”

_No._

“Oh, I know!”

_No. No. No-._

“Oikawa!”

His head explodes.

* * *

_Hajime is five years old, watching the moving men carry boxes into his new house from the curbside. His parents are talking to a tall man about official stuff that he doesn’t care about, and all his toys are in the still-sealed boxes._

_To put it simply, he’s_ bored _._

_Very bored._

_Too bored._

_And like any other responsible five year old, he decides that the best course of action is to explore._

_It’s a small neighborhood, but to Hajime, getting to the far end of the street would require a partner to help him._

_There’s only one problem: Godzilla is stuck in his backpack inside the car._

_That won’t do. He needs to help him!_

_Hajime gulps nervously. If he can maybe find a rock big enough, he could…_

_“Hi!”_

_...or he could enlist the help of the beaming boy who had popped up out of nowhere._

_“Are you new here?” the boy cocks his head to the side. “Hi!”_

_“Hi,” Hajime murmurs. This is a lot harder than he thought._

_“I’m Oikawa Tooru!” he exclaims, unbothered by Hajime’s lack of enthusiasm. “Those are my parents over there.” Tooru points at a man and woman now chatting warmly with Hajime’s parents. “Who’re you?”_

_“Hajime!” he replies a little too quickly and he blushes. “Iwaizumi Hajime.”_

_“Iwaizmi?”_

_“No, no! I-wai-zu-mi!”_

_“Iwa… Iwasa… Iwasumi.”_

_Hajime frowns. Is this boy dumb?_

_“Iwaizumi!”_

_“Iwami!”_

_“Dumby.”_

_“Hey!”_

_Their exchange continues like this for a few more minutes before Tooru lets out a groan, defeated. “That’s too long,” he complains. “Can I just call you Iwa-chan?”_

_“Huh?”_

_“A nickname!”_

_Hajime has never had a nickname before._

_He nods eagerly. “Sure.”_

_Tooru’s smile is the most beautiful thing he has ever seen. “Yay! Hey, Iwa-chan.”_

_“Yeah?”_

_“Let’s race to the end of the street!”_

  
  
  


_They end up getting in trouble for running off by themselves, but that’s okay._

_They have just met their best friends for life, after all._

* * *

_They spend their days catching bugs and searching for aliens and everything else in between._

_Tooru may cry a lot, but his smiles are brighter than the brightest stars._

_Hajime comes to love every part of him, no matter how bad or how small._

* * *

_They’re seven years old now. Hajime taps his bug catching net against the ground impatiently as he watches Tooru toss a strange ball into the air in his yard._

_“Tooru,” he calls. “Come on, let’s go!”_

_“Wait, wait. Iwa-chan, look!” Tooru grins. He tosses the ball up and bumps it once, twice, and then it flies a little too high and smacks him right in the back of the head._

_Hajime can’t help it. He breaks out into laughter. “What’re you doing, you idiot?”_

_“Volleyball!” Tooru huffs, picking the ball up again. “We’re gonna go watch that match next week, right? So I wanna try it first.”_

_“Volleyball?” Hajime thinks aloud. “Like that thing with the net? Sounds boring.”_

_“It’s_ fun _,” Tooru pouts. “Wait, come here, I wanna try something. Spiking! They did this on TV!”_

_“Huh?”_

_“Like, uh. Someone hits the ball really hard. It’s super cool!” He flails his arm around in demonstration. “But we need two people. Hey, hey, Iwa-chan, set for me.”_

_Hajime still doesn’t understand what foreign language Tooru has apparently picked up overnight. “Set?”_

_“Like...like…” Tooru makes a motion with his hands. “Like that!”_

_Hajime can only stare, dumbfounded, and the brunette lets out a frustrated sound. “Okay! How about I set? And you spike.”_

_“O… kay?”_

_“Just jump and make your arms like this!”_

_Tooru tosses the ball into the air and Hajime does just that._

_He misses by a longshot. Gravity does it’s job and he stumbles back._

_“Wow, Iwa-chan, you’re so good at this,” Tooru snorts._

_“Shut up, let me try again!”_

_They end up spending the whole day doing that._

_Hajime only manages to hit it weakly once. But to him, that and Tooru’s sweet laughter are the two best things in the world._

* * *

_They join their junior highschool’s volleyball team._

_Tooru becomes captain in their third year. Hajime becomes his ace._

* * *

_Tooru’s perfect facade starts cracking when a first year genius setter joins._

_Kageyama Tobio…_

_Hajime stands by the sidelines siently._

_It’s around this time that he realizes that the amount of love he has for his best friend isn’t normal. They shouldn’t be this close, so he pushes Tooru away._

_He’ll be fine, Hajime reasons to himself. Tooru’s strong._

_It’s okay._

  
  
  


_“Oikawa-san. Please show me how to serve.”_

_But it’s not._

_Thankfully, Hajime is there to catch Tooru the moment he slips, hand inches away from Kageyama’s face._

_...but what if he hadn’t?_

_“Too close for friends,” be damned. From that day forward, he resolves to never ever leave Tooru alone again._

* * *

_Hajime ends up leaving him for a few minutes one day after practice in their first year of highschool. He’s an idiot._

_It’s inevitable. The moment he returns, the ball rolls off Tooru’s fingers into a serve toss, but he doesn’t make the jump._

_Tooru collapses. Time freezes._

* * *

_The rest of highschool passes by in a blur._

_Tooru becomes captain in their third year. Hajime becomes his ace._

_They never make it to Nationals._

* * *

_After their final loss against Karasuno, Hajime finds Tooru crying in his bedroom, hugging his volleyball and uniform to his chest._

_“Oikawa,” he whispers, gently rapping his knuckles against the door._

_“Go away, Iwa-chan,” Tooru croaks, voice so shaky and raw that Hajime can feel his heart breaking._

_“No.”_

_“Oh my god, just-.”_

_Hajime crosses the room and suddenly his arms are wrapped around the other boy comfortingly. “No,” he repeats, and the dam breaks._

_“Iwa-chan,” Tooru sobs. “Iwa-chan.”_

_Hajime shushes him. “Hey, it’s okay.”_

_“No it’s not,” he blubbers. “We never even beat them once. Now we’re never going to Nationals and it’s all my-.”_

_“What have I told you, you dumbass?” Hajime scowls. “It’s not your fault. There are six people on a volleyball court!”_

_“You hypocrite,” Tooru murmurs into his shoulder and Hajime gives him a light smack._

_“Besides, it’s not over. We still have university and you’re planning on going pro, right? And the others still have next year in highschool.”_

_“You don’t understand! It’s not the same. I wanted to take you and Makki and Mattsun and everyone else to Nationals and now-.” He sniffs. “Stupid Ushiwaka and Tobio…”_

_“Come on,” Hajime cups his face with his hands without thinking. “No one else blames you, so stop that. You’re ugly when you cry.”_

_He’s lying. Tooru is painfully beautiful no matter what._

_Their foreheads touch and it’s just such the perfect moment that it just slips out._

_“I love you.”_

_Tooru’s head swings forward and smashes against Hajime’s._

_They stare at each other with wide eyes and bruises on their foreheads. Despite the bad lighting, Hajime can see that Tooru’s whole face is a brilliant shade of red._

_“What the fuck, Iwaizumi,” he breathes, nickname momentarily forgotten. Oh shit._

_Hajime’s brain finally catches up to what he just said and he flinches. “What?” he stammers. “No, I mean. Nothing has to change, I just. Like. You. Uhhhh, like a friend?”_

_Yeah, he’s not fooling anyone._

_Hajime hangs his head. “Please don’t hate me.”_

_“Hate you? Why would I hate you?” Tooru’s crying harder now. Oh no._

_“It’s not… it’s not normal. I’m sorry, I-.”_

_He’s interrupted by Tooru grabbing him by the face and smashing their lips together._

_The kiss is awkward and uncomfortable and only lasts for a meager second before they pull apart to catch their breaths._

_“Goddamnit, Hajime,” Tooru laughs, covering his face with his hands. “Now I don’t know if this is the best or worst day of my life, thanks a lot.”_

_Hajime frowns. “Why would losing to Karasuno be the best-.”_

_“I love you too, you dense moron.”_

_Oh._

_“Oh.”_

_“Yeah, oh. What even was that lame confession? I expect a hundred milk breads and roses for compensation.”_

_“Why do I even like you?” Hajime shakes his head, but he leans forward to steal another kiss anyway._

* * *

_They move in together._

_It’s a nice apartment in Tokyo, not too big and not too small._

_By the time they finish unpacking, it’s perfect._

_It’s home for just the two of them._

* * *

_Twenty year old Hajime nervously adjusts his shirt for the umpteenth time that day._

_It doesn’t escape Tooru’s eyes. “Iwa-chan, everything okay?” he frowns._

_“Y-yeah.”_

_From behind them, Hanamaki and Matsukawa exchange knowing glances and Hajime turns to glare at them. He should have never told them._

_“Really?”_

_“Really. Now hurry up, I want to get there before sunset.”_

_They’re visiting their old highschool on their last day in Miyagi._

_It’s a happy occasion, yet the nerves that sprout from the small box in Hajime’s pocket won’t let him relax._

  
  
  


_“Yoo hoo! Kunimi-chan! Kindaichi!”_

_“Oikawa-san!” the taller of the two exclaim. The air of authority around him from his captain’s uniform dissipates immediately and all Hajime can see is his old underclassman for most of his time in school. “Iwaizumi-san, too! Are you visiting from Tokyo?”_

_“Yup,” Hajime waves._

_“Wow. It’s good to see you again!”_

_“Uh huh. Actually, Kindaichi, I have a favor to ask you…”_

_When he finishes, Kindaichi is gaping at him. “Congratulations, Iwaizumi-san.”_

_“I mean, not yet. He still has to say-.”_

_“Congratulations,” he says again, a bit absently._

_“Kindaichi, is something-?”_

_“Iwaizumi-san,” Kunimi interjects flatly. “You should probably go control your fiance. He’s scaring the first years.”_

_“He’s not…” the argument dies in Hajime’s throat and he nods quietly._

_When he glances over his shoulder one last time, Kunimi is softly patting a dejected looking Kindaichi’s shoulder._

_Huh._

  
  
  


_They’re right in front of the volleyball club’s gym._

_The sunset serves for a beautiful background for this place containing most of their best memories._

_It’s perfect._

_“Tooru, wait.” Hajime curses his weak voice and tries again. “I need to do something before we leave.”_

_“Hm?” Tooru turns with a raised eyebrow to see him taking a knee. “What is it, Iwa-chan? Shoelace-?”_

_Hajime takes out the box._

_He opens it with a gulp._

_“...Hajime?”_

_“Oikawa Tooru,” Hajime starts, suddenly overcome with confidence. “My childhood best friend, best partner in volleyball, boyfriend, the love of my life…”_

_“Hajime!”_

_“Will you…” he licks his lips. “Will you marry me?”_

_Everything explodes into noise around them, even with someone’s shout of “he didn’t say yes yet!” and they’re kissing and crying and laughing and-._

_And it’s perfect._

_“We’re gonna have to wait a few years,” Hajime adds as he slips the ring onto Tooru’s finger. “But I just wanted to, in advance, uh-.”_

_“Of course. Of course.”_

_“I love you.”_

  
  
  


_When they’re on the train, holding hands on the armrest, Tooru turns to face Hajime with puffy red eyes and has the audacity to complain._

_“No fair. I was supposed to propose first and sweep you off your feet.”_

_Hajime rolls his eyes and shuts him up with another kiss._

_Yes. Everything’s perfect._

* * *

If only it could stay that way.

* * *

_Tooru manages to overwork himself and hurt his knee when Hajime isn’t looking again._

_It just so happens to be during finals week for Hajime, so Tooru insists that he can go to the doctor by himself and that Hajime should focus on his exams._

_  
_ _He lets him._

**_Why does he let him?_ **

_They compromise; Hajime has to walk him home from the station._

**_Why not closer to the hospital?_ **

_Hajime can’t focus on his exams either way, so he rushes through to meet Tooru as soon as possible._

_He’s right there, standing across the street. Waiting for the light to turn green._

**_Why can’t he wait longer?_ **

_The light turns green. Tooru catches sight of Hajime and his entire face lights up._

_He steps forward._

**_No._ **

_He’s. Right. There._

_Hajime should run or scream or do anything, but he stands where he is, frozen._

**_No._ **

_He reaches out a second too late._

_Tooru is thrown into the air._

_Hajime’s body feels weightless._

_He crumples to the ground. There’s blood splattered on the otherwise pure white snow around them._

**_All it took was a single moment._ **

_Hajime screams._

* * *

_His and Tooru’s parents arrive in Tokyo six hours later._

_Hajime doesn’t speak to them._

_People he remembers knowing from highschool visit the next day._

_He cries with them and returns to his too-big, too-empty apartment alone._

_This isn’t right._

_Tooru should be with him too._

_Tooru should be here._

_But he isn’t._

  
  
  


_When he wakes up the next day, his head hurts._

_He no longer knows why._

* * *

_“Hajime, I lo-.”_

_“I love you.”_

  
  
  


“Tooru.”

* * *

“Hanamaki.”

“Iwaizumi?” the voice on the other side of the phone is groggy. “What is it? It’s like… four in the morning.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Huh? Wh-.”

“You just let me forget,” Hajime continues. _“How could you?”_

There’s rustling and then Hanamaki’s voice comes out much more alert than before. “What? Iwaizumi. Do you…” he takes a deep breath. “Do you remember?”

“Do I remember?” Hajime repeats incredulously. “Do I remember?! What do you fucking think, Hanamaki?”

“Shit. Iwaizumi-.”

“Stop that. Just.” He chokes back a sob. “Stop.”

Silence. 

“Why didn’t you tell me? Why did it take passing out in my fucking office after someone said his name for me to remember. _Why_?”

“You passed out in your-.” He can almost see Hanamaki squeezing his eyes shut and shaking his head. “Don’t you think we tried?” he hisses. “After you ever so selfishly decided to just run away from all of your pain.”

“I didn’t escape from it either-.”

“Well at least you didn’t have it as bad as us,” Hanamaki snaps. “I know you were hurt. But don’t you think it would have been worse if we told you?”

Hajime scowls. “You should have.”

“Jesus Christ, Iwaizumi. I know Matsukawa and I teased you guys a lot in highschool, but we’re not cruel. For fucks sake, do you really think we would have been able to do that back then?” There’s a loud thud. “He was our friend too. You may have loved him more but that doesn’t mean we didn’t at all!”

Hajime knows this.

He knows this, but if he doesn’t ignore it, the only person he’ll have left to blame is himself.

He remembers how hurt they looked. How utterly horrified they were when Hajime opened the door and jokingly asked if someone had died because of their solemn expressions.

Tooru… oh god, he can’t believe he let himself forget _Tooru_.

He promised to always stay by his side, yet Hajime just abandoned him like that.

“You could have told me later,” he argues weakly and really, why is he even trying anymore?

“Well I sure wanted to.” Hanamaki somehow sounds more bitter than before. “But you know, stuff happened. Matsukawa…” he sighs. “Issei… he got engaged. To a girl.”

That, Hajime knows too.

“I ended up never telling him.”

“I’m sorry…”

“Oh, don’t be. And you know what I thought? You wanna know what I fucking thought? ‘Wow, Iwaizumi and Oikawa were so lucky. At least they loved each other’,” he laughs, loud and empty. “I’m a terrible person, I know. But you gotta admit. You are too.”

_He knows._

“So yeah, I’ll apologize for that part, but not for not telling you.”

“...yeah…”

“Wow, we both really suck.” There’s shuffling and the sound of water splashing before Hanamaki finishes up. “Well. Good luck, I guess. I… really wish things could have turned out differently.”

“Thanks.” His tears blur the screen as he pulls his phone away and hovers his finger over the end-call button. “Me too.”

* * *

Hajime quits his job.

He stops going outside.

Leave it to Shittykawa to ruin his life even after death.

* * *

Life goes on.

* * *

On a cold December morning, exactly four years after Tooru’s death, Hajime goes on a walk.

It’s surprising how much the world can change without someone.

His legs bring him to the cemetery for the third time.

He goes in for the second time.

He makes it to the grave for the first time.

There’s no one else around.

Hajime kneels on the thin layer of snow covering the dirt.

He reads the words engraved on the smooth tombstone.

For the first time since his call with Hanamaki, he cries.

  
  
  


Hajime looks up at the sky and weeps; mourns for everything he has lost.

The sun remains bright in the sky.

  
  
  


**OIKAWA TOORU**

**1994 - 2015**

* * *

“Our dead are never dead to us until we have forgotten them.”

-George Eliot

**Author's Note:**

> Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh hi
> 
> Please don't hate anyone, they're all trying their best :(
> 
> Akaashi panicking because Iwa keeps passing out on him and for some reason he doesn't remember Oikawa or volleyball: JHSGJHGDHJGHDJGHJS
> 
> First fic I write for the Haikyuu fandom and it's angst, wow
> 
> Anyway, I don't usually write things like this so hopefully I made you sad???  
> Update: people are saying this is sad so sorry
> 
> [Join my Discord and be my friend](https://discord.gg/E8rnymG)


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